“Mom, we’re going to go down and check out the creek, OK?”
“Just be quick, I think a storm is coming.”
The excitement that warmer weather means more fishing and playing around in the neighborhood creek is unmistakable . I watch as my son, clad in very tall, rubber old firefighter boots, and his best friend walk down the street toward the creek laughing and joking about things that only make sense in their adolescent world.
I start dinner, cheese quesadillas. As I am cutting my perfectly ripe avocado and relishing in its beautiful green hue, I hear a rumble of thunder. I look out the window and see the trees swaying in the wind and the sky darkening. I glance at my phone and notice a notification that heavy precipitation and lightening are nearby. Quickly turning off the stove and rinsing my hands free from avocado smears, I grab my keys. Rain starts coming down hard as I back out of the driveway. Worse case scenarios run through my head as I call my son. I am surprised when he picks up thinking he may have left his phone at home for fear of getting it wet at the creek or in the rain. I find them not far away, already walking home. I feel a twinge of guilt for not trusting that he would make a good decision and come home right when he heard the thunder, but the instinct to protect my child is stronger and pushes the guilt away quickly.
They scramble in the back seat as I stop to pick them up and drive his friend home. “I told you my mom would call right when we heard the thunder, didn’t I?” he jokes.
He knows his Momma too well.